Grudges
by Meowmers
Summary: There was a time when I hated Brady Fuller with all my being. Actually, I worded that wrong. I still hate him. On the hate scale, he lies somewhere between Brussels sprouts and waking up early for school. So needless to say, I was not a happy camper when he wound up in my Algebra II class and followed me to the convenience store. Brady/OC. Imprint.
1. Prologue: Why Brady Fuller is a Jackass

**Summary: There was a time when I hated Brady Fuller with all my being. Actually, I worded that wrong. I still hate him. On the hate scale, he lies somewhere between Brussels sprouts and waking up early for school. So needless to say, I was not a happy camper when he showed up in my Algebra II class and followed me to the convenience store. Brady/OC. Imprint.**

_Hatred is a very underestimated emotion._

_Jim Morrison_

**Prologue**

**Why Brady Fuller is a jackass. Hint: It has nothing to do with any overreaction on my part.**

I don't want to say that I was bullied my whole life. But I kind of was. I just don't want to leave the impression that I was some poor kid who had no friends and who everyone hared. Because I did have friends, and a relatively happy childhood. Unfortunately, I just happened to have a few people who hated me as well. But I guess that's life.

Before dating and fashion and whatever the hell is important to middle-schoolers and high-schoolers, back when the most important thing was making sure you weren't picked to be "it" in hide-and-go-tag, I learned what it meant to really hate someone.

Their names were Collin Littlesea and Brady Fuller.

And they are the two worst human beings I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.

I was six when we first met. And it wasn't like the movies where some kid is singled out and picked on or humiliated or anything dramatic like that, but it doesn't change the fact that they are both horrible people. We were all playing hide-and-go-tag on the playground, and I found the perfect hiding place. I mean it was phenomenal, I should've won an award for that place. Because, see, most people hide in holes or in corners, but that's stupid. You need to hide somewhere where you can high-tail it outta there when you get found.

So, anyway, I was hidden in this sort of tunnel that went under and around the slide. I sat right in the middle, right where it curved, so I could see where they were coming from and run if I needed to. I was perfectly happy, minding my own business in my perfect hiding place, when stupid Brady and Collin come in and sit right in open of the entrances. Which, by the way, completely ruins the purpose of the hiding place. I crawled toward them, because at the time I didn't know their names, and tapped one on the shoulder.

"You can't hide here. This is my spot." I told them. I sat back on my feet and stared them down, willing them to walk away. One of them—Brady, I would later recognize him to be—stuck his tongue out at me.

"Whatever, you're smaller than us, so you can't tell us what to do."

It was a stupid retort. Being small had nothing to do with what you could do. I knew that for a fact. But stupid Brady Fuller didn't know that because he was stupid and I was smart. I straightened my back, squaring my shoulders and trying to seem big and intimidating.

"Get out. They're gonna find us and it's gonna be your fault."

Then, in a rough and mean move, Brady grabbed my arm and actually threw me out of the tunnel. I sat up, leaning back on my scratched up hands, almost in tears, and stared back at him. Shocked.

It got worse.

"Harry!" He called, so loud my eardrums almost burst. I didn't know what he was doing at first. I didn't know who Harry was.

Well, Harry was "it." But not for long. Responding to the call of the monster that was Brady Fuller, he found me sitting on the ground and tagged me, all while stupid Brady and stupid Collin sat in my hiding place safe and sound.

Needless to say I held that grudge for a while. Actually, I still hold that grudge. Among others.

I'll list them.

When I was five, I brought my fish to show and tell and Brady flushed it down the school toilet.

When I was seven, Collin put gum in my hair. I had to cut it so short I looked like a boy for like six months. And then when I was nine Brady snipped off one of my braids when I wasn't paying attention, and I had to do it again.

When I was eight, moving backwards briefly, Brady stole my chocolate pudding. He didn't even eat all of it, he used the rest of it to make some gross food soup on his plate where he mixed together everything he could find. What a waste.

Back to when I was nine, Brady killed his class's pet hamster—he was in the grade above me—on accident when he dropped it, but he blamed it on me. The whole grade above me hated me because they thought I was a hamster killer.

When I was ten, Brady somehow found out about my crush on Seth Clearwater, a boy three grades ahead of me who I met on the playground once, and told him. The next time I saw Seth, he wouldn't talk to me.

When I was eleven, Collin spilled paint on my favorite dress. It never came out. He seemed pretty sorry about that one, actually, but I still didn't forgive him.

When I was twelve, Brady hit me in the face with a dodge ball. I had to sport a shiner for the next week and a half.

There were more incidents, comments, and annoying-ness throughout the years, but there are too many to mention all of them. I was lucky they didn't scare all my friends away. But sometime while we were thirteen, they left me alone. And that was fine, good riddance.

But it was also rude.

I mean, what, no apology? They dropped out of school, one after the other, for like a week each, and then came back and never spoke to me. They never even looked in my direction. I mean they spend most of their kid lives picking on me and then turn away and then after their freaky growth spurt pretend it never happened? That was rude.

But it's not like I'm going to walk up to them and demand an apology. If they want to leave me around, great. Radical. It's not like I want to talk to their ugly mugs anyway. And at least I never had classes with them. They were a year older than me, and I got pretty good at avoiding classes they would take. So fine, I could live without dealing with my arch enemies.

And like the mature twelve-year-old I was at the time, I put the past in the past. Well, not really. I still hold the grudges four years later, but that's beside the point. What I mean is they never spoke to me and I never spoke to them. Truce. Kind of.

I said goodbye to the shenanigans of Brady and Collin with a smile on my face. I was done with that chapter in my life.

So I was a little disappointed when I walked into my Algebra II class sophomore year and saw Brady fuller in the back row.


	2. Chapter 1: This is where it all starts

"_Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions." _

_-David Borenstein_

**Chapter I**

**This is where it all starts. Think of it as the first circle of Hell.**

"It's you're fault for being in a smart math class." Nelly smacked her gum and I swiped her feet off my kitchen table. Her boots hit the floor with a dull thud.

"A little sympathy would be much appreciated, Nell." I deadpanned, collapsing into the chair across from her.

She had the audacity to laugh at me, her pretty short curls falling about her head. "So he'll sit in the back of your math class and sleep through the whole thing. Wow. It's a hard life." I didn't miss the sarcasm. "Calm down, Cozy, it'll be fine."

I sighed tiredly. Cozy, albeit my nickname—Nelly's idea of a nickname from Consolata—was very far from how I felt. There was a cold dread that sat in my stomach at the idea of sharing a math classroom with that boy for the rest of the year.

"At least he's hot now."

"Nell!" I scolded, caught off guard by the offhand comment. She shrugged, offering me only an impish smile in response. "His physical appearance does not, in any way, make up for his asshole personality!"

She sighed, apparently tired of the conversation, "I'm just saying that since 8th grade he has just gotten buffer and hunkier and damn if he doesn't have a fine ass now."

I glared.

"Whatever." She said, throwing her feet back on the table. I eyed them with disdain, "Weren't you going to make me cookies or something?" She grinned at me once more.

"You're a greedy bitch," I grumbled, shoving her feet off the table again. I was met with her laughter.

* * *

My mom got home at around nine that night and we had a late dinner. She was a slender, pretty woman, young for a mother of a teen. She was typical La-Push, with her dark hair and skin and brown eyes. I didn't have a dad, just half some guy's DNA that my mom had some hot stranger sex with when she was a teen.

"Don't word it like that, I'm not a common whore. We went on two dates."

I looked like my mother for the most part, I had her smooth, straight hair, and her nose. I was small like her, and slender. A little too small for my liking, but I wouldn't complain. But my skin was fairer than most of the people here, and my eyes were an odd moss green. I guess I got those from my dad. I don't know. She doesn't talk about what he looks like.

"It doesn't matter, you look like me, that's what matters."

My mother was a strange woman. She was charismatic, everyone loved her, and she loved everyone. But she was as strange as they come. She goes through phases, sort of. An example of one is when she had me, she went through this super religious phase. That's why she named me Mary Consolata, meaning something like the comfort of Mary. Thank God I had Nelly to come up with something shorter. Even if I would be stuck with the name 'Cozy' for all eternity.

Right now she was going through some sort of chef phase. She went out and bought seven cook books and comes home every night from work and cooks us dinner. She's terrible, and everything turns out burnt or gross or both. But it's funny to watch, and it gives us time together. I like this phase better than her bacteria nazi phase where she was a total neat freak for like a month. And I like this better than the time she decided she wanted me to be a pageant kid when I was nine. I got last place, I think I even still have one of those pity crowns they give all the losers.

But to be honest, I guess I kind of did the same thing. Although my phases had more to do with my hobbies. For a while I was really into art. But, I kind of sucked, so I'm glad that's over. I'm trying to learn the guitar now but my fingers hurt real bad when I try.

"Brady is in my math class," I spoke, pushing my mushy peas around on the plate and avoiding the charred whatever on my plate.

She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Brady? The Brady who took your hiding place in the second grade, that Brady?"

I frowned. I still held that grudge.

"Yeah. It's a sophomore and Junior Class. We both have it." I pictured him for a moment, sitting in the back of that classroom asleep throughout the entire lecture. I mean, I didn't watch him that entire lecture, but every time I glanced back he was knocked out. What a waste of a human being.

Okay, that was harsh. He wasn't a waste. He had his apparent nice ass going for him.

"Well what's the news on Brady, is he still your, what do you call him, your arch enemy?" I noticed her teasing smile and matched it with a frown, "I'm not up to speed on the Brady drama."

"It's not drama, mom." I retorted, sticking my fork into the burnt unknown and waving it around as I spoke, "And he is still hated very much. That was the perfect hiding place mom, the perfect hiding place, but because of him I was stuck staring out at the seemingly empty playground and slapping people as they ran away from me!" She laughed, "And he is the reason for all my ugly child pictures where I look like a boy!"

"Aw," She cooed, "You looked cute."

I glowered. She laughed.

"Honey," She spoke smoothly, "It's just one class. At least he's not in your grade. The year will be over before you know it and he'll be out of your life again."

I nodded, laying the blackened mystery food on my plate and taking a sip of water.

* * *

That night I tried to practice guitar but I gave up after five minutes or so. Instead I tried to entertain myself my going through whatever as under my bed.

There was a fairly uninteresting basket of old toys. Another slightly more interesting but still not that interesting basket of children's books. I found an impressive amount of dust bunnies that made me sneeze up a storm. I only stopped when I pulled out a cardboard box of old photos. I smiled.

Dumping it all out on my floor, my guitar forgotten on the top of my bed, I picked up a random pile of photographs and started moving through them. There were a few of my mother and I, and she had an awful haircut. Very dated. There was a wonderfully awkward picture of me after I had to cut all my hair off. I didn't look happy.

I came across an old class photo. Kind of. It was about one third of our class on a field trip. My used-to-be-friend Ashley was beside me, and on my other side stood Brady and Collin. I forgot how scrawny Collin used to be. Brady was always kind of meaty. Brady and I were the only two not smiling—in fact, I was bawling while he glared down the photographer—and it took me a moment to remember why.

"That's right," I murmured to myself, filling the silence with my quiet exclamation, "He was tugging on my hair because I made fun of his shirt." I paused, examining the photo closer. I laughed quietly, "To be fair, it is a dumb shirt." Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe I just wanted to make fun of him.

I spent the greater half of the night sorting through them, putting them into piles. Piles like "My mother and I," "Friends through the years," "People who were my friend once," and even, "Proof that Brady Fuller and Collin Littlesea are terrible people." I didn't have enough photographic evidence of Collin, but Brady I had plenty. I never realized how much we used to interact.

I longed for an album. I could scrap book it all. Organize it.

With a dimpled smile, I realized that I had found my new hobby.


	3. Chapter 2: Social wrongdoings

"_To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it."_

_-Confucius_

**Chapter II**

**Social wrongdoings. Otherwise known as the illogical and completely inappropriate social outreaches of Brady Fuller**

Through the weeks, Brady continued to pretend I didn't exist. Which I was fine with, albeit a little bitter. I mean, let's just forget the fact that we were arch enemies for all of my childhood and pretend I don't exist, okay.

I wasn't going to start anything. I guess this was the lesser of the two evils.

I sat by Marissa in Algebra. She wasn't a close friend exactly, but she was sweet and we liked a few of the same things, plus she'd been in my math class since seventh grade. She had the typical reservation look, with tanned skin and dark hair. It was cut to her shoulders, and honestly it made her look more like a mom than a student, but she worked it. She acted a bit like a mom anyway. And honestly she was the only thing about Algebra I actually liked.

It wasn't really an awful class, it was just monotonous. Every class was the same, every day the same. Marissa quietly listened to the lectures and lessons, I would zone in and out, but generally get the gist of the lesson—some kid named Reg or something would doodle in his notebook in front of me all class and sometimes I'd get a little distracted watching him draw. And then Fuller in the back would fall asleep or cause disruptions that led out teacher on a four-year-long lecture about the importance of respect and shit. It was always the same thing.

We were reviewing irrational numbers versus rational numbers when things got weird.

"Mr. Fuller." Our teacher boomed. He was new this year, his name was Mr. Mulligan, and he was pale and old and cranky. He glowered at Brady, and I knew without even turning to look that he had fallen asleep again.

"Is my lecture boring you?" His mustache twitched under his wrinkled nose, and he set his hands on his hips. I sighed, turning my head to glance back at Brady in the back.

Nelly was right. He really was attractive. He was tall and broad, with dark skin and short dark hair. I remember when he used to wear it real long, almost as long as mine. I liked it now though. He hadn't cut it in a while, long enough for it to fall back around his ears and neck. He would cut it soon.

I found myself frustrated that I couldn't remember the color of his eyes. They were probably brown. I didn't remember, and I couldn't tell as I stared at him from across the classroom. His jaw was strong, and it did that thing when he clenched it. He grinned sleepily back at the teacher. It's a shame all the pretty ones act like a horse's ass.

"Boring isn't the right word," He spoke, and I rolled my eyes back to the front to watch the teacher. Brady didn't elaborate.

"Perhaps you'd like an extra homework assignment to keep you and your classmates occupied?" The teacher asked, his eyebrows raising to where I imagine his hairline might have been fifty years ago. I whipped around in my seat and glared at Fuller in the back, smirking like he had done nothing wrong. If he got all of us an extra assignment, I would throttle him.

"Either way I'm not going to do it." I threw up arms up and whirled around in my seat again, pouting at the white board.

"What the fuck, Fuller..." I muttered, crossing my arms angrily across my chest. There were a few scattered groans in the room, and Marissa tapped her fingers against the desk in what I could only assume was irritation.

"Won't you, Mr. Fuller?" Mr. Mulligan asked, turning around to dig through one of his drawers, "Very well. I'll assign the chapter review, due this Friday." It was a Wednesday, today. "It will be worth a test grade."

An accumulative murmur of discontent swept across the room, and I gaped at the teacher. A test grade? It was, like, two weeks into the school year!

I turned to glare back at Brady, who shrugged carelessly as his eyes swept across the room. He stopped on me. _What the fuck is wrong with you? _I mouthed. He didn't respond, but at least that stupid smile was gone.

Actually, come to think of it, I don't think I like this expression any better. His smile didn't only drop, his jaw did, too. Just a little, not like in the cartoons when it drops to the floor, but it definitely went slack. He stared openly at me, probably the first time he even looked at me since I was twelve. What, was he surprised to find I was still alive? Was it the fact that I have boobs now?

That can't be it, I'm still lacking in that department.

I furrowed my brow. _What? _I mouthed, turning when the teacher dropped the chapter review packet on my desk. We weren't even done with the damn chapter. I turned around again to glare at Brady from around the teachers shoulder.

Then this grin split across his face, like a Julia Roberts grade smile that practically divided his face in half. He leaned forward in his desk, as if he was about to mouth something back to me, but I was a little weirded out by the grin, so I turned back around in my seat.

"What is it?" Marissa asked from beside me. I'm sure my face looked more than disconcerting. I shrugged.

"Don't know." I said. And I didn't know. Brady was just being a freak. Again.

As Mr. Mulligan made his way back to the front, he continued his lecture, his monotone voice already grating into my ears. I threw my head down on my desk into my folded arms. Add this to the list of ways Brady Fuller has ruined my life.

* * *

"No, when class ended, he literally called my name across the classroom," I relayed to Nelly later, "And practically chased me out of the room. I was lucky that my next class was only a few doors down with Schultz or...I don't know."

Nell stared at my as she took a swig from her water bottle, "Brady Fuller? Fuller chased after you. What for?"

I threw my hands up, almost hitting some girl who had sat next to me at the table. I didn't know her name, she had settled with two of her friends at our table. "Who knows? Who cares, I'm staying far away from him."

That fact that he had chased me, yes, _chased me out_ of Mulligan's room was weird enough. Weirder than the fact that he called my name so the whole class could hear, so everyone knew he wanted to talk to me. Look, notice me, okay? Acknowledge that I exist and that you hate me but don't _talk_ to me, Jesus.

Was that asking too much? I just want us to glare spitefully at each other from time to time so that we know we're still enemies, and then just leave each other the hell alone. Now what does he want to do? Burn my homework so I fail the class? Copy of my homework so he passes?

"I bet he wants my homework." I said suddenly, shoving a sandwich in my mouth and taking a good quarter off in my mouth.

Nell, in contrast to my eating like an animal, popped a single chip in her mouth and chewed before speaking, "Or maybe he noticed you're hot and totally wants you."

I mentally threw up everywhere. "Gross," I spoke through the mouthful, "Please do not ever speak again."

She laughed, taking another swig from her water bottle. I swiped it from her after she was done, taking a drink myself. "You're right, you're too ugly."

I laughed, throwing a carrot her way.

* * *

I avoided Brady for the rest of the day. Sometimes I saw him in the hallways and I would duck behind some tall kid walking by. It wasn't hard, everyone was taller than me. It was almost kind of sad, seeing him walk through the hallways looking around like some kid who lost his parents. But I sure as hell wasn't his mom and I was not going to come to his rescue. Honestly, I don't know if he even would have bothered with me in the halls, but better safe than sorry.

Usually, at the end of the day I would meet Nell at her locker and we'd walk home together, but her locker was kind of close to Brady. I mean, not that close, they were at opposite ends of the hall, but he would totally be able to see me if he was looking for me, so I couldn't risk it. I would deal with her wrath later.

On the way home I stopped by the store to get some scrapbook supplies. And yes, I was dead serious about becoming a scrapbooker. I had spent the better part of last night sorting out photographs, even sneaking into my mom's room while she slept and taking the photos she had. I was up until 3 AM, but it was worth it.

Maybe it wasn't worth it, I hadn't decided yet.

I was in the scrapbooking aisle, deciding on whether it was worth it to pay extra for the expandable ones when my life began falling apart again.

And no, I'm not being dramatic.

"Hey, uh, Mary Conso—" I dropped everything when I jumped at his voice, "Shit, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to—uh—you okay?" He—and it _was_ Brady, my mind wasn't playing tricks on me—picked up the scrapbooks and handed them to me. I didn't take them, so they stayed between us.

There was a long silence, in which he just sort of stared at me like I was his long lost dead sister or something and I shifted my eyes around us, only glancing briefly at his face from time to time.

"Sorry, I uh, I just wanted to say hey." He smiled then, a brilliant smile with white straight teeth.

"Did you follow me here?" I asked at about the same time he said, "So you into scrapbooks, or..."

He sputtered, waving a hand out in front of him like he was wiping a windscreen. "No!" He said, "No, no, no, no I just...I saw you here, I'm getting...paper. For my printer." I didn't buy it, but his eyes were huge and scared, like a puppy, so I just nodded.

"Here are your scrapbooks," He said, extending his arm again to hold them out to me. I eyed them disdainfully, glancing over the the ones still on the shelf.

"Oh, it's okay," I said dismissively, reaching for the ones on the shelf, "I think I'll, uh, get these."

He nodded quickly, in very much a 'yes dear' action, and placed the ones he had on the shelf. I wanted to expandable ones, but...I didn't want to take the ones he offered.

Was I being childish?

No. Definitely not.

"So you make scrapbooks and stuff?" I frowned at his use of 'and stuff,' but I nodded slowly.

"It's...a new hobby."

"Cool," He nodded, grinning, following me as I walked toward the counter. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what he was up to. Why was he being so nice? Was he still trying to get my homework? No, I thought, he would probably try to flirt if he wanted something like that out of me. That sounds more like him. Why was he being so awkward?

"So, uh, listen," He gently—and I mean fairytale prince gentle—grabbed my arm and turned me toward him, "Mary Consolata—"

"Oh," I cringed, puling my arm out of his grasp. He was warm. "Don't call me that."

He looked shocked, his hand awkwardly shifting in the air and then dropping limp to his side, "um," He sputtered, "Okay, uh, what...what do I call you, then?"

I almost offered for him to call me Cozy, but then decided against it last minute, leaving me standing there with my mouth open and nothing to say. "I don't know," I said, turning my head away and staring longingly at the check out counter. Maybe I could make a run for it...

"Well, do I call you Mary?"

I screwed up my face without thinking, shaking my head. He laughed, staring down at me like I was his favorite pet or something, like I was a kitten or a puppy. Fondly, I noted, that was the word. He looked at me fondly.

"Not Mary, then," he chuckled, his voice unfairly deep when he laughed like that. My chest constricted a little bit, and I took a deep breath through my nose.

"Well, I know Nelly Harris calls you Cozy, I don't know if that's a nickname, or—"

"Yeah you can call me whatever you want." I said dismissively, walking away from him and toward the counter. The check out girl smiled as I walked up, but I couldn't bring myself to return the gesture. Stupid Brady Fuller had followed me to the counter.

"Okay, Cozy it is." He grinned again, I saw it in the corner of my eye, but I refused to face it dead on. "Well, Cozy, what are you doing this weekend?"

I froze, the counter girl asked for 10.28 and I didn't respond. I turned slowly to face him, my brows pulled together in suspicion. "Are you asking me out?"

He faltered, "Um...yeah."

"On a date?" I clarified, turning the rest of my body to face him.

"Yeah."

I huffed loudly, pulling twenty bucks out of my wallet and handing it to the counter girl. She awkwardly hurried to give me my change as I spoke.

"What is you're deal?" I demanded, rounding on him again, speaking before he could respond, "Are you trying to get my homework from me?" He shook his head, his eyes wide and panicked, "Because as far as I'm concerned you have no right to be speaking to me right now."

"Listen, Cozy—"

"No, you listen!" I interrupted, taking the change from the girl and shoving it in my schoolbag. "You made my life hell from the time I was six onward until you got that stupid haircut and decided I didn't exist—which is fine!" I interrupted myself, "I don't care if you don't want to talk to me, it's better than you acting like we're best friends."

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"You put gum in my hair."

He paused, his mouth opening once and closing before opening again, "I did?"

"Yeah, and cut off half of my hair. And you took my pudding once, and you killed my goldfish, and you ruined my crush on Seth when I was like 10, and you made me lose hide and seek, and you made fun of me all throughout school, and you turned the entirety of your grade against me when I was 9!"

The check-out girl, face full of terror, extended a hand to try and get our attention."Excuse me, you're holding up the—"

Brady rounded on her immediately. "Do you mind?"

"Do _you_ mind?" I attacked, "You have been a jerk to me all my life, Brady Fuller, and walking up to me like none of it ever happened is not going to convince me to do something for you, so if you want my Algebra homework, you're going to have to find a different approach." He opened his mouth to speak, and I noticed I was right; his eyes were brown, almost black, and they reflected the light coming in through the windows. His brows pulled together in what I assumed was anger.

"Goodbye Fuller." I spat, turning on my heel and snatching my bags from the counter as I left the store. I heard him stomp after me, and I prepared myself to scream if he grabbed me, but he didn't. I heard the door slam not long after I had exited, and I turned to see him stalking off, very quickly, toward the forest edge.

He never got that paper for his printer.

* * *

"Mom, he was being an ass!" A piece of lettuce from the apparently 'gourmet' salad my mom had prepared that night flew off my fork as I waved my arms around. I didn't pick it up off the ground.

"Sounds to me like he was being nice," She spoke through a mouthful of lettuce. She gestured excitedly to the meal in front of her, "Good, huh?"

"It's salad, Mom," I deadpanned.

"Still good," She shrugged, piling her fork up and shoving it in her mouth. "About this Brady boy," She said after a tense silence, "Maybe he was trying to apologize."

"Last I checked," I said, pouring more dressing over my salad and angrily stabbing the greens with my fork, "An apology sounds a bit like 'I'm sorry,'"

"Some people aren't too good at apologizing, Mary Consolata," I cringed, "You are one of them."

"I can apologize!" I argued, mouth full of salad. She placed her fork down and gave me a look. I faltered, then sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm not the best at it."

"He may not be the best kid around." She said, piling her fork up again, "But at least he's not terrorizing you anymore. This could be a good sign."

"Yeah well I don't trust him"

She laughed, piling the rest of her salad on to my plate, "Well, you don't have to. You just have to be nice." She rinsed off her plate and stuck in the dishwasher, turning back to smile—fondly—at me. "Besides, you got what you wanted, Brady isn't ignoring you anymore." She swung herself around the banister and bounced upstairs, without so much as a goodnight.

"I never said I wanted this!" I said, pointing at the extra salad on my plate.

"That's life!"

I wasn't sure if she was talking about the salad or Brady. I wasn't sure if _I _was talking about the salad or Brady.


	4. Chapter 3: Shouldn't be allowed to speak

"_Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret."_

_-Ambrose Bierce_

**Chapter III**

**I shouldn't be allowed to speak. Actually, I just shouldn't be allowed out in public in general.**

I didn't go to school the next day, and no, it was not because of Brady that I stayed home. I stayed up until 2 working on my first scrapbook and only got like seven pages done (but son they look good) and then I stayed up until seven working on the first half of the Math chapter review.

I say first half, I ended up finishing it.

So I had my mom call me in sick and I slept for the day. Or at least I slept until about one in the afternoon. I woke up feeling sweaty and gross and my eyes were crusty and I was grumpy as hell but at least I was rested, right?

That instance with Brady in the convenience store stuck with me all day. I kept thinking back to it, and his expression when I yelled at him, like a kicked puppy. I didn't know if his intentions were to guilt me, but if they were, they were working.

I sulked for the rest of the day by myself in our living room, watching terrible reality shows in order to make myself feel like a better person. Maybe tomorrow in algebra I would just pretend that it never happened. Brady seemed pretty fond of that method. But no, I refused to be anything like Brady Fuller.

Nell came by the house to drop off homework, not that there was much. It was only the second week of school, so some of my classes hadn't even started the curriculum. She sat with me and watched some crap TV for a few moments before speaking.

"Brady asked me about you today."

I groaned.

"He asked me if you were sick at lunch since you weren't at the table. I told him to fuck off and he looked so shocked I thought he might cry."

"Impossible," I rebutted, muting the television, "Fuller is incapable of feeling emotions." Though the incident from the other day proved otherwise. Nelly took the remote from me and unmuted the program, I stole it back and muted it again, "You told him to fuck off? Why?"

"Well, he asked me where you were and I asked him why he cared. Then he got super defensive and wanted to know why you and I hate him so much, and the he asked if I turned you against him. I told him that you didn't need anyone to turn you against him, you would hate him no matter what. Then he started to get really angry and he started shaking so I told him to fuck off. Then Collin came and pulled him away and they didn't come back for the rest of the day."

We sat in silence for a moment before she stole the remote back and unmuted it again. I sat in silence, scowling angrily at the TV set and moping about Brady. Part of me was pissed off at his insistence on being some part of my life, but most of me just felt bad. I didn't mean to be such a bitch yesterday, and now Nell told him to fuck off.

"I yelled at him yesterday."

"What?" She turned to look at me, screwing up her face in confusion, "You talked to him yesterday?"

"I _yelled_ at him yesterday."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I know," she scoffed, "But, I mean, when did you guys, when were you around each other?"

I tried to grab the remote but she held it out of my reach and gave me a sharp "no."

"He cornered me in a craft store."

She pursed her lips, "What were you doing in a craft store?" she asked.

"I'm scrapbooking now."

She shrugged, turning toward the TV again. "Whatever, Cozy, he was probably being an ass. It was probably warranted."

"No," I moaned, "That's the thing, he was being really nice."

I was shocked when she muted the television this time, turning to face me fully on the couch, "I told you!" She exclaimed, "I told you he had the hots for you!"

I hit her with a cushion on the couch as she laughed, "Shut up! It's not funny! That's really, really gross. He obviously just wants something from me"

"Yeah," She scoffed, "That ass."

"Stop, stop! I'm gonna cry if you don't stop talking!" I wailed, slapping my hands over my face.

"Good," She laughed, "I revel in your tears."

"I hate you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

"You don't look so good." Marissa eyed me concernedly in the few minutes before math class. I almost didn't notice, too preoccupied eyeing the door with terror, waiting for a certain someone to walk in.

"Wow," I drawled, "Thanks."

"Sorry," She said quickly, "I just meant...you look like you're about to puke or pass out."

I considered it. I'd get to go to the nurse and skip class. I wouldn't have to face Brady, I could avoid apologizing, I could avoid his general existence, and all would be swell.

But I don't think I could fake being sick. I'm a terrible liar.

"I'm fine." I finally responded, but she didn't seem to believe me. I pulled out the chapter review due today laid it face down on my desk, and when I looked up, Brady was standing in the doorway.

There was a long, awkward moment which consisted of us staring at each other without him moving from the doorway, before I finally averted my eyes and he moved. He shooed some kid away from the desk next to me and sat down.

"That was rude," I scolded, gesturing to the kid who was resituating near the back. "Besides, isn't the back row more your scene?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry."

I paused, slightly shocked. He was sorry? I was supposed to be sorry. Okay, that's not true. He did need to be sorry, there was a lot to be sorry for, but now? After all this time? Honestly, it didn't evenmake sense that he was talking to me at all, let alone apologizing. He only every talked to the Uley Clique, as I liked to refer to them as. Some people called them the Uley Pack, but I thought that sounded dumb. And then of course, Brady would hang out with some girl every once and a while, but his relationships never lasted long. Other than that, he was kind of antisocial.

Yet here he was, going out of his way to talk to me. Literally what the hell.

I must have been silent for a long time because he looked really terrified when I clued back in to reality.

"Um..." I sputtered, shaking my head, "Yeah, uh, that's...what?"

He frowned, "I'm sorry for that stuff I did to you. I was a stupid kid and you were fun to pick on."

"Fun to pick on?" I echoed angrily, and he visually backtracked.

"No, I just—That's not what I meant. I'm just sorry for everything I did."

I was unconvinced, but class started before I could press the issue. We turned in our chapter reviews first thing. Brady didn't do his, surprise. He got detention, but he probably wouldn't go.

How was he not expelled or something?

The class went by really slow, mostly because Brady was sitting right next to me and stared at me practically all class. I'm sure he thought I didn't notice, but how could you not notice someone beside you turned completely in his seat toward you? Kind of hard to miss.

I was tempted to comment with something lame like 'take a picture it'll last longer,' but decided to stay silent instead. He was making it pretty damn hard to be nice to him when he was acting like a moron.

I tapped my pencil irritably against the wooden top of my school desk, trying and failing to listen to Mr. Mulligan's monotone voice. I watched Brady in the corner of my eye, waiting and silently pleading for him to turn way. He didn't.

I turned suddenly in my seat, sudden enough that he flinched, and I gritted my teeth, letting out a sharp breath. "Do you mind?" I hissed.

He stared dumbly at me.

"You've been staring at me all period." I clarified, taping my pencil on the desk again. His eyes flickered briefly to my hand before focusing on my face again. His mouth moved as if it was trying to form words before he finally spoke.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, sorry, I just..." He trailed off, his eyes floating over to rest on something over my shoulder. I turned, seeing only Marissa writing her class notes. I turned back around, furrowing my brow.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing, just nothing, I...sorry." He turned to face the front board, twirling his pencil in his hand, obviously not paying attention. I stayed sideways in my seat, narrowing my eyes. Slowly, very slowly, my jaw fell lax and my mouth fell open. Of course, I thought, it all made sense now. The weird look in my general direction, following me to the convenience store to awkwardly ask for something, following me out of class, _it all made sense._

He liked Marissa.

I mean it was pretty obvious now, he wasn't staring at me during class at all, but at Marissa. And at the store he wanted to ask me about her, but I freaked out on him and he didn't know what to say. And just now he wasn't staring at me, he was staring at Marissa and tried to cover it up. It was all so obvious. How did I miss it?

The bell for the end of class rang and I was still staring open-mouthed in his direction. He turned to look at me, seemed to stifle a smile, and spoke.

"Hey, Cozy," I promptly stood up and gathered my things before bolting out of the classroom. There was no way I was going to let him loose on poor, innocent Marissa, He could find his sexual fix elsewhere because I was going to guard that girl like a dragon.

"Marissa!" I called, spotting her black bob in the halls. She turned slowly, looking confused, but smiled when she saw me.

"Hey, Cozy, what's up?" she asked, readjusting her books in her arms.

"Where are you headed?"

She paused, briefly, before answering suspiciously, "English Class?"

"You don't have lunch?"

"No," She sighed, "I've got fourth lunch."

I grimaced, "Sucks," I said, and she laughed and nodded along with me. I thought I heard Brady's voice somewhere behind me, but I might have been hallucinating. Nevertheless it prompted me to hurry my speech.

"Listen to me Marissa," I said, grabbing her by her forearms, "I'm only looking out for you when I say that you need to stay away from the majority of the guys here, okay?" She sputtered for a moment, but I cut her off, "You're too good for them Marissa and I know there's a guy who might be trying to pursue your affections right now but you can't give into him, okay? You just can't!"

She was silent for a moment before answering slowly, "That's...sweet, Cozy, but I...I have a boyfriend, so..."

The mental image of Brady being beaten to a pulp by a buff boyfriend of Marissa's brought me too much joy to keep it to myself and a grin split my lips, "Really?" I said, possibly a bit too loud because she jumped in surprise, "That's great! Does he go here?"

She looked suddenly uncomfortable, pulling away from my grip on her arms. "No..." She mumbled, "He doesn't live on the reservation."

"Oh..." I said quietly, my dream of a huge reservation hunk beating on Brady dissolving into some other guy getting beaten by Brady.

"He's a great guy, though!" She said, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Oh, yeah!" I said, "Yeah, I bet he is, Marissa. It's fine. Just...stay away from these reservation guys, okay?"

"Um..."

She was obviously uncomfortable, so I offered her a cheesy grin.

"...Okay. I gotta get to English." I smiled, waving goodbye and letting my smile drop when she turned her back on me. Well, I definitely just made every single math class ahead of today totally awkward, but at least Marissa would stay away from the predator Brady.

I rushed to the lunchroom then, knowing that Nell would be in this lunch period, and skipped the meal line, finding her at our table. For some reason it was overcome with people today, all of them people I didn't recognize. I squeezed in beside her, whispering excitedly.

"Nell," I greeted, continuing speaking before she had a chance to respond, "I figured out what's up with Brady."

She raised her eyebrows, turning toward me to show she was listening.

"He likes Marissa."

I expected more of a response, honestly, but all she did was furrow her brows and stare at me for a long moment. Finally, she put her fork down—she was eating some sort of pasta today—and said, "What?" as flat-line as I've ever heard her say anything before in her life.

"It's so obvious, Nell, I don't know why I didn't see it! He was trying to get to Marissa through me, trying to talk to me because he wanted to get on her good side! He was staring at her in class, not me!"

She was silent for a long time again, just staring at my beaming face. I nudged her to try and force her to join in my enthusiasm, but she showed nothing.

"Cozy, that doesn't make any sense."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He knows the Rogen family, right?" I frowned, "Marissa is best friends with Joanne Rogen, and Brady knows the Rogen family. If he wanted to get to Marissa he's probably go through Joanne."

I shook my head, "Yeah, but...I'm in his math class."

She laughed, and I frowned angrily back at her, "Hun, it wouldn't matter if you were in all of his classes. If he wanted Marissa, he would go through Joanne. Actually, he's probably go straight to Marissa. He's not exactly afraid of women, if you didn't notice."

It's true, he was kind of a lady's man. He didn't necessarily have a woman on his arm all the time. But his relationships started suddenly and ended quickly. He definitely wasn't known for long-term relationships with women. The woman I had seen him consistently hang around it was Leah Clearwater, but that definitely wasn't romantic.

"Besides," She continued, "If he just wanted her, why did he come and ask me about _you_ when you were gone?"

"Well..." I trailed off, seeing him sitting at a table on the far side of the cafeteria with Collin and Seth. There were other boys at his table, but I didn't really know any of them. "What if I go ask him?"

"What?" Nelly scoffed, "What makes you think he'll tell you if he has a crush on someone."

"Well of course he won't tell me," I stated angrily, "But I can tell by the way he reacts."

"Because you're so good at reading people?" She drawled, "Cozy, honey, he has a crush on _you._"

I sat there for a brief moment glaring at her, before standing from my seat and speed walking towards his table. In the moment, I didn't care much for the look that Collin gave me as I approached, but looking back on it, it was a weird mix between apprehension and amusement.

I shoved in between some random kid and Brady, startling Brady to the point that he knocked over his drink.

"C-Cozy?" He squawked, turning to face me as soon as I sat down.

"Do you like Marissa?" I asked in a quiet whisper. He smiled slightly, obviously not hearing me, and he leaned in.

"What?" He questioned, that weird fond smile on his lips again. I spoke harsher.

"Do you like Marissa?"

His face screwed up in some really weird expression that only communicated disgust. "What? No! I—"

"Good." I spoke evenly, surveying his reaction, "Because she has a boyfriend, you know."

His face stayed in that expression of disgust, "Okay?" He said, "I don't care?"

"Why do you say that like it's a question?" I asked, keeping my voice low even though he was speaking at a normal volume.

"I—I don't. Cozy—"

"I'm just saying that you should cease and desist all future efforts of trying to get to Marissa because she is too good for you."

There was a tense silence between us for a moment, his face melting into some expression of force calm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What's what supposed to mean?" I asked, dropping my acidic tone for a moment of brief confusion. Was he angry at me?

"That she's too good for me?"

Collin tapped on Brady's shoulder but Brady waved him away.

My brows furrowed. "I...I don't understand the question."

"Why would I not be good enough for _Marissa_?" He spat out the name like it was something you find on the bottom of your shoe, and I found myself briefly offended for Marissa's sake.

"Because _Marissa,_" I spat, "Is a wonderful human being and _you _are a self-obsessed jackass who can't hold a relationship for more than two weeks."

"Oh, you've been keeping track of my relationships, have you?" He growled, lowering his voice.

"This conversation has nothing to do with whether or not I've been paying attention to your relationships." But I have. "This conversation is me telling you to stay away from Marissa."

"I don't like Marissa!" He whispered harshly.

"Why not?" I responded angrily, and he did that screwed-up-face thing again.

"What—because—I—why are you so _fucking _angry at me?" He snapped, his hand gripping his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"Why am I angry at you?" I echoed, shocked, "Have you forgotten everything you've done to me? Do you have selective memory or something?"

"I apologized! I thought you forgave me!"

"I have _not_ forgiven you." I responded venomously, and I prided myself on his suddenly shocked expression. "One apology does not make up for ten years of making my life a misery." His face twisted in anger.

"I am trying to—"

"Well_ stop_ trying." I spat, and I noticed he was shaking. Shaking a lot, actually. The kind of shaking you'd expect form someone curled up in the fetal position or something. But he wasn't curled up, and his eyes were fixed on me, not exactly angry, just...I don't even know. It was the kind of expression you'd see on someone who was about to cry, but he didn't look anywhere near crying. He looked closer to punching me in the face. His chest heaved and his shoulders shook and I suddenly found myself regretting storming over here.

Collin grabbed his shoulders from behind and turned him away from me, Seth following after. They led him out of the lunchroom and outside, Brady shaking all the way. I felt weird, like when you pass a test but you actually cheated. Or when you win a race but you only won because the other one tripped and broke her arm. I slowly made my way across the lunchroom, looking around to see if anyone had noticed the interaction. If anyone had, they didn't show. I'm pretty sure everyone's too wrapped up in their own drama to pay attention to Brady and some other girl.

Nell caught me at the door, because I didn't return to the table. "Hey..." She started, obviously ready to taunt me. But she stopped, "You alright?"

"I don't feel well," I said, "I'm going to go to the nurse and ask to go home."

She nodded, squeezing my arm comfortably and giving me a smile. "Feel better."

Guilt, I thought. That feeling of winning but not really winning. It was guilt.


End file.
